Unprepared
by pokeitlikejello
Summary: Based on the episode 97 Seconds. Cuddy and Wilson's take on the extreme action House took. WARNING: spoiler for season four, if you have not seen the episode, I advise you not to read it. But, if you have seen the episode, please take a peek!


**This is basically the other side of House putting a knife in a wall socket as seen from Wilson and Cuddy's view. It focuses mainly on Cuddy. I don't own any of the characters. And this is only a oneshot fic. Enjoy!**

* * *

Wilson stepped off the elevator and immediately froze. A sizable crowd had gathered outside of House's office. Wilson immediately thought back to the day House was shot, the set up in front of his eyes was much to the same effect. Pushing his way through, Wilson managed to reach the door, but couldn't get in any further.

Wilson recognized the blonde doctor who had passed through his office earlier that day. She seemed shaken as she tried to get through the doorway. Wilson stepped back as she squeezed through and headed for the elevators. He caught up to her.

"You're Amber, right?" Wilson hoped that was her name. He only knew a handful of their names.

She looked at him, distrust written across her face. "Yes."

Amber pressed the button for the elevator. She stepped to the side of it. Wilson stood alongside of her.

"What happened?" Wilson asked. "It's House, isn't it?"

Amber eyed Wilson up, recognizing him. For a mere second she seemed overcome with fear and worry, but that expression was replaced by stone. She nodded. "He idiotically jammed a knife into the wall socket."

"What?!" Wilson moved towards the office.

Amber reached out, drawing him back. Wilson turned to look at her and she shook her head.

"They'll be bringing him out on a stretcher." Amber gave a nod to the elevator. "They told me to get the elevator."

The doors slid open on cue. Amber reached inside and pressed the button to hold the elevator doors open. Wilson stood with his hands on his hips, staring in the direction of House's office. Amber stepped in front of Wilson, bringing his eyes to her.

"House knew what he was doing when he did it." Amber looked Wilson in the eye. "He paged me just before. I was there to start his heart and he's breathing now."

"They're bringing him out." Wilson nodded toward the office.

Amber turned and saw the stretcher leaving the office, House's body resting limply on top. He was surrounded by nurses, tending to him and his burned hand. They monitored his pulse and breathing as they wheeled him to the elevator.

Wilson turned away at the sight of House's pale face. Amber looked from Wilson to the stretcher and boarded the elevator. She unlocked the elevator doors, pressed the down button, and the doors slid closed. Wilson ran a hand through his hair and took in a breath, knowing he had to inform Cuddy.

* * *

Wilson knocked on the door and let himself in before waiting for a response. Cuddy picked her head up from the paperwork on her desk. Her eyebrows lifted at the sight of Wilson.

"Hey," she greeted, giving him a small smile. "What's up?"

Wilson shut the door and turned back around, his somber appearance suddenly casting a worried look across Cuddy's face. She straightened up in her chair.

"Wilson?" Cuddy lowered her head slightly, narrowing her eyes and trying to hold back her mounting fear. She had seen this look before. She had _known_ this look before.

Slowly, Wilson made his way to the chair opposite Cuddy's desk, his soft eyes never leaving her hardened ones. There was bad news, she was sure, and already began to prepare herself. Wilson sat down and leaned forward in the chair, balancing on the edge.

"There's been... an accident," Wilson started, the softness in his eyes emanating in his voice.

"Don't do that thing you always do when you have bad news." Cuddy shook her head. "Not to me. What is it?"

Wilson paused. "House stuck a knife in a wall socket."

Cuddy's first reaction was laughter. She couldn't stop the sound from coming out of her mouth. Wilson's words were too ludicrous to be true. The laughter stopped as immediately as it started once that first shock was over and Cuddy realized that Wilson's words were, in fact, the truth.

"Is he okay?" Cuddy breathed, leaning back in her chair, wanting to pull herself away from this.

"His heart stopped," Wilson told her. "It's beating again, but he's currently unconscious and has a pretty bad burn on his left hand. He's breathing on his own though, which is a good. Amber, one of the doctors after a position on his team, said he paged her right before he did it."

Cuddy stood from her chair and moved across the office, her back to him. Wilson watched and waited. He was about to stand up to comfort Cuddy when she suddenly turned back around. Wilson watched, half turned in his seat.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" Cuddy asked, outraged. "Does he not understand that I don't employ people who are _mentally incapacitated_? He's always cynical, he never does his work, he has a drug addiction, and then he goes and puts a metal object in a wall socket! He could have died! He has a job to do at this hospital and if he can't do it and would rather be a three year old and stick objects into wall sockets, then so be it! I'll fire him right now."

Wilson stood up. "_Lisa_... calm down."

"Calm down?" she repeated. "You are actually suggesting I calm down? Wilson, he-"

Cuddy broke off her own words, a lump of emotion catching itself in her throat. She looked away. Wilson let a light sigh and moved closer to Cuddy.

"He is out of his mind," Wilson pointed out, burying his own anger and resentment at House into himself, knowing that one of them had to remain collective. "And while I don't think he'll ever have a good enough excuse to justify what he did, he's... still House."

Cuddy shook her head, still not looking up. "If his patient dies..."

Wilson shrugged. "He'll be held fully responsible. I don't condone what he did either, but we have to accept it for now. What else could we do?"

"Kill him." Cuddy glanced at Wilson quick before drawing her eyes back down to the floor.

"I'm going to go check on him, then head home," Wilson told her, taking in a breath. "Tomorrow, I'll work on his case with his team, or teams, or whatever he has."

Cuddy lifted her head and nodded at Wilson, sincerely. "Thank you."

"You should go home, too," Wilson advised. "Try and get some rest. Try not to think about House. You can deal with it tomorrow."

Cuddy nodded again, but her mind drifted from Wilson's words. Wilson gave her an encouraging squeeze on the arm and left her office. Cuddy stood still, staring across the room at her desk, but not seeing it.

She couldn't believe House. Cuddy was certain she would never be able to understand what made him do the things he did. It scared her and sickened her and put her on edge because she could never be sure what stunt he would pull next.

When he had been shot, Cuddy nearly lost it. But, for the sake of her sanity, for the sake of House's ducklings and for Wilson, she had pulled herself together. At least, she did the best she could. But, this, _this_, was far beyond any sort of conceivable insane stunt, even for House.

Cuddy didn't realize she had her jacket on and purse in hand until she was pulling her office door open. She flicked off the light and walked towards the exit, knowing she wasn't strong enough to visit House before she left the hospital for the night.

* * *

She refused to visit. She wouldn't go near his room. Even when she first got wind if his patient's death, she still refused. Cuddy could not bear to see him. Not yet. Not until she was certain she would not break in front of him.

Wilson had brought her the news that House had not wanted to kill himself, but wanted to reach a point of near death. That was after Wilson had gone to the roof and let out a cry of frustration. He knew House needed answers, he knew House lived for them, but he didn't know House would also risk death to get them, too. Wilson didn't understand how House could be so careless with his own life sometimes.

Since then, Cuddy decided to prepare herself to visit House, knowing it was her job to address him and his damn near suicidal actions. With the encouragement of Wilson, she now stood just outside of House's hospital room. He was dressing, preparing to leave. Cuddy took a breath, put on a hardened face, and entered his room.

"If you hadn't treated this patient as a game, he wouldn't be dead." Cuddy tried to be casual in her walk across the room, yet firm at the same time. This concentration kept her emotions in check and her authority up front.

He answered her with a snide remark. She would expect no less. She shook her head and her jaw slid to the side, a clear sign she was tense and holding back her anger.

"I'm suppose to show you sympathy." With those words, her anger was gone and replaced with a hint of defeat. She needed to reprimand him, keep her words professional. However, she really just felt like slapping him. "He died. While his attending was lying on a hospital bed because he stuck a knife in a wall socket."

She hoped her words would make him see how stupid his actions were. She hoped he could recognize the pain in her voice. Cuddy wanted her words, her pain, to strike a nerve in him and perhaps make him think twice the next time he decided to almost kill himself or worse.

But, House showed no signs of seeing Cuddy's weakness. Instead, he made excuses for the man's death, not touching upon his own responsibility for it.

"You employed her," Cuddy pointed out in response to House's defense of blaming it on one of his charges. She pressed her personal thoughts away. He didn't realize, he didn't understand. She was certain he never would. She let her eyes penetrate him. "You're responsible."

Cuddy let her last words sink in, but she couldn't stand to look at him anymore. She turned quickly and took off out of the room. She knew she could never be honest with him about how she felt about his decision to stick a knife in a wall socket because he didn't think his actions were wrong. House believed he was right in what he did.

She moved on. Cuddy swiped at the tears forming in her eyes, making sure they never fell. She straightened her back and raised her head, pulling strength from somewhere inside of her. She knew she would never tell House that she didn't sleep that night, she would never tell him that she couldn't ever forgive him for what he did, and she would certainly never tell him of the terrible ache she had felt when she thought, once again, that he might die and leave her.

* * *

**Fin.**


End file.
